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Much stalked off, leaving the rest of the gang and those ungrateful little boys snickering behind him. “It’s not squirrel meat,” he yelled over his shoulder. “And it’s not rat. Next time, cook for yourselves!”
“Come on, Much. They’re just lads,” Allan called after him.
“They didn’t mean it,” Will added.
“It’s not just them,” Much shot back and continued on his way.
It was late but the moon was full. The moonlight through the trees created beautiful, somewhat spooky, designs but he didn’t care. There was barely enough light for him to see but he wasn’t about to go back. It would serve that lot right if he fell down and broke his neck. Then they might appreciate him.
He found a large rock to sit on. He hugged one arm across his chest and started biting the nails on his free hand. “Oh, the servant,” he muttered sourly.
He shook his head. He rocked slowly back and forth. “No one treats me with any respect,” he whined to himself.
He was acting like a petulant child himself and he knew it. Still, why didn’t the boys think he was a hero like Robin, John, and the others? Why didn’t any of them pretend to be him? Why was he just the servant? He could fight. He really could.
He was so self absorbed that he didn’t hear anyone approach. He almost jumped out of his skin when John sat beside him. He hit John’s arm. “You startled me.”
John shrugged and stared at Much.
Much couldn’t meet that intense gaze. He half turned away from John. “I know. I’m lucky that’s all that happened,” he grudgingly allowed. “I just…I needed some air.”
John took a deep breath. He folded his hands in his lap. “Me, too.”
Neither said a word for a while after that. Much didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t sound like whining. John had the patience to sit still and wait him out.
A cool breeze chilled Much’s skin. He hugged his arms tighter around himself. He scooted back just a little to barely touch John. “It’s a nice night.”
John grunted his agreement.
Much glanced at John over his shoulder to see the big man staring up at the stars. He faced forward again. “I…I shouldn’t have stormed off like that.” He waited for a moment but John didn’t move or speak. He inched closer and his back touched John’s side but John still didn’t react. “I was just tired of…of…” he stumbled over his words and growled in frustration.
“It’s not true,” John said softly.
“What?”
John put a hand on Much’s shoulder. “That you’re just a servant. We all know you’re more than that.”
Much sniffed. “You might. Robin might. What about the others?”
“They know,” John stated simply, with that quiet tone of authority that Much found hard to ignore.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Much leaned in close to John’s body. He reveled in the heat he could feel through John’s clothes. He sighed when John’s arm closed around him.
John laughed under his breath. “They only tease you to see your face.”
Much looked up into John’s face with wide eyes. “What do you mean?” he asked in confusion.
John bit his bottom lip. “You…uh…”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“No. Tell me.”
John rubbed his beard and swallowed the urge to laugh. “Well…your eyes get wide, your face gets red, and your bottom lip wobbles.”
Much’s mouth fell open. “I do not.”
“You do,” John said earnestly. “And your voice tends to a higher pitch and you squeak like a mouse.”
Much glared at him. He almost pulled away but saw the twinkle in John’s eyes. He laughed despite himself. “You had me going.”
John gave Much a squeeze. “Back to camp.”
Much grabbed the front of John’s leather jacket. “No.”
John arched an eyebrow and waited.
Much leaned in close and nuzzled the spot just below John’s ear. He smiled wickedly at John’s sharp gasp. “Djaq’s wrong. You don’t have to lie about how big you are.”